Cocoon
by paxbanana
Summary: Sophie looks for Hanna in everyone, yet she's still surprised when she finally sees her. Femslash.


Cocoon  
Fandom: Hanna (movie)  
Pairing: Sophie/Hanna  
Rating: T  
Warnings: I'm assuming a happier end to the ambiguity of the fate of Sophie and her family. Movie spoilers, obviously.  
Summary: Sophie looks for Hanna in everyone, yet she's still surprised when she finally sees her. Femslash. I wrote this a long time ago and figured I might as well post it.

That summer touring the Mediterranean was like a dream in her life. No one in her family ever discussed what had happened. It was safe to say they'd never go back to Spain again. Once they'd arrived back at their dull home in Britain, Sophie had gathered her courage and done an internet search. There was no information about a "Hanna" with no last name. But there had been an article on Grimmoire House in Berlin, of a set of unsolved murders: three men dead in a park nearby and a man found tortured to death inside the abandoned amusement park. And last, an American woman Marissa Viegler, found dead at the park—wounded by an arrow and shot in the head with a bullet.

She had nightmares about what had happened, about her friend, Hanna, killing that man with a knife. Dead, just like that. She'd probably done the same to all those people in Berlin. But where was Hanna? Despite herself—her helpless anger at not understanding what had happened, about who her friend was—Sophie was glad Hanna hadn't been found dead.

But then summer had ended, and she went back to school. Her family continued its silence on the strange events of that summer, and Sophie began to stop thinking so constantly about Hanna. Eventually it just faded away, at least until she saw a painfully skinny blonde girl or heard someone shout, "Hanna" to a school chum.

If only Hanna hadn't been so sincere, so sweet, so painfully naïve. If only she hadn't kissed Sophie—the first kiss in Sophie's life that had actually meant something, the one that sent shivers all the way to her toes and made her catch her breath. If only Hanna had done to her what she'd done to that Spanish boy, then maybe Sophie could let it all go instead of forgetting for a little while only to suddenly feel everything rush back in memory.

But, even those sharp reminders faded somewhat. Especially through university, when she was busy with classes and girlfriends and life swept her away when it moved faster than ever.

Until one winter night when she was walking along a busy street on her way to a get together with her friends, she turned her head and saw her.

The long, wild blonde hair was still down, though not as unkempt as before. She was still painfully thin, wearing Converse and jeans and a thin hoodie as if the cold was nothing to her. In the red and orange luminescence of the bars along the street, she could make out her sharp, clear eyes and the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Those eyes were riveted on a group of street musicians playing for the crowd. (The memory arose, of Hanna sitting so still, rapt in the Spanish musicians. She'd sensed it more keenly than the kiss she'd let that Spanish boy take.) Sophie stepped away from her friends and said weakly, "Hanna."

Hanna turned her head, saw her, and just looked at her. Then she gave the faintest smile before turning on her heel and disappearing into the street.

"Wait!" She didn't know why she'd shouted that word, not when Hanna could be a murderer or a spy or even some sort of mutant. The same instinct that compelled her to shout after Hanna also churned her feet forward, and she ran into the street, shouting again, "Hanna!"

She was blind to her surroundings, and a car blared its horn as tires squealed. Then there was an iron grip on her shoulder, tugging her sharply off her feet and into the safety of the curb.

"Hanna," she gasped, reaching out touch Hanna's face. The same placid face, with the same penetrating eyes. Then Hanna turned her gaze across the street. Sophie followed her gaze and saw the knot of her friends shouting after her. "Let's go. Can we go somewhere?" Sophie wished her voice weren't so desperate.

Hanna studied her. Then she nodded. She released Sophie's shoulder from her grip, and Sophie caught her arm, thinking of the regret she'd had since she'd realized she was "one of those lesbians" that she hadn't pressed for a stronger kiss, hadn't slipped her hand between Hanna's legs and shown her what it was like.

Hanna walked them to the subway, where they took the tram across the city. Hanna sat with the stillness of an animal, not stiff but simply unmoving. She watched everything with her eyes. She kept that animal awareness in their short walk to her apartment building, and she surveyed everything within her home with the guarded look of someone looking for something out of place.

"Are they still after you?"

The placid face twitched. Hanna shook her head. "No."

"There were four men dead," Sophie whispered. "In Berlin. And that woman. That woman came and talked to us, Hanna. She said your father killed your mother and he wanted to kill you too. I didn't believe her, but Walt… Walt told her where you were going."

"It's alright," Hanna said.

Sophie shivered a heavy weight of guilt lifted from her shoulders. "You were okay? Did she come after you? Did she mean it, about your father?"

"She killed my mother," Hanna replied. Sophie let out an involuntary moan. "And my father. But I killed her. She was the only person who knew about me. No one has tried to find me again."

She was weak and lightheaded. And a little surprised someone like Hanna owned a couch. She sank into it gratefully, feeling her stomach slowly settle. "I'm sorry I followed you. I'm sorry I ran away from you. I'd never seen anything like that. You just killed him. Just like that."

"He was going to hurt you." Hanna slowly sat down next to Sophie on the couch. She stared at her hands and seemed to vibrate with pent up energy. "Are you still my friend, Sophie?" she finally asked. There was a catch in her voice as if she was nervous about the answer.

"I don't know," Sophie whispered. "I just know I've thought about you so much since then. I was scared of you, and I was scared for you. I've… I've never thought of anyone the way I've thought of you, not even my girlfriends or my best friends. Or my family."

"Did she hurt you?" Hanna asked haltingly.

"No." Sophie shook her head. "She just asked us a lot of questions about you. And Walt told her where you were going and she just let us go. I think my parents thought she was going to kill us. I did. Nobody talks about it at all now."

"I'm sorry I put you in danger."

"We weren't hurt," Sophie said again. Finally Hanna met her eyes. Sharp blue, with such lovely dark to blonde eyelashes. "You're sure you're safe?"

"Yes."

After a moment, Hanna got up and went to the kitchenette of the apartment. Sophie held her breath, remembering the skinned squirrels—and the horrible sense of betrayal at waking alone after such an emotionally intimate night. (She remembered their feet brushing, the feel of Hanna's hand on her face, the sweet scent of her breath under that blanket.) When Hanna withdrew a plate of Chinese leftovers, she let out a sigh of relief. "I was afraid you'd pull out a rat or something."

A slow, honest smile. "I'm not sure I trust the safety of rat flesh in the city."

"You're so weird." Sophie laughed softly, but her laughter turned into tears. "I thought I'd never see you again. And I'm so glad I have, that I am."

Hanna settled up against her and folded Sophie into her arms. And Sophie turned her face to Hanna's and kissed her. It was shaky and odd, but those tingles were full-blown shivers of passion, and Sophie hadn't felt this kind of pleasure even having sex with any of her exes. "I think I'm in love with you, Hanna," she admitted. She drew back and held her breath, waiting for Hanna's reaction.

Hanna smiled. Then she blushed and giggled. And then she leaned in for another kiss. Distantly, Sophie heard the microwave beep, but by that time they'd lain down on the couch. Hanna's hands rubbed her scalp and massaged her hips. Sophie gasped. "Oh. Have you done this before?"

"No," Hanna replied. She pulled off Sophie's shirt and settled back against her, her hands now occupied with Sophie's breasts.

It was wonderful. Better than Sophie had ever imagined sex could ever be. There was passion, but through it all there was that quiet stillness of emotional intimacy that they'd shared that night under the blanket in their tent. Quiet words punctuated by soft touch, in a soft cocoon under the comforter on Hanna's bed.

Sophie awoke a little while later. She was alone in bed. In a panic, she fell out from under the warm comforter and caught Hanna, standing at the door with a bag over her shoulder. "You aren't going, are you?" she asked, her tone shaky and hurt.

Hanna's mouth opened, then she sighed.

"You're safe. You said you were safe. Why are you leaving?"

Hanna seemed to look inside herself. Then she smiled almost ruefully and dropped her backpack on the floor of the apartment. "Do you want something to eat?"

Sophie stamped her foot. "I want you to promise me you won't leave again!"

"I promise," Hanna said firmly. And that was that. "I can make some waffles," she said clearly.

"I'll eat part of yours."

Hanna cocked an eyebrow. "I'll make you one."

"I can't eat the whole thing."

"Then I'll finish it."

Well, she had to be pushy about something, and if it was sharing food, Sophie could deal with that. Oh, god, it felt like she'd already resigned herself to being with Hanna. Being with her, which sounded permanent.

A few minutes later, Sophie held a plate with a large, golden waffle on it. The syrup bottle sat between them on the bed. Hanna watched Sophie as she ate, a soft smile on her lips that with any other person, Sophie would distrust. With Hanna, though, Sophie just smiled back. True to her word, Hanna finished her waffle and began to eat the majority of Sophie's. "You enjoy eating so much," she said at last. "That hasn't changed."

"I never knew food could be so expressive."

"Expressive?"

Hanna nodded. "In the forest, there was not variety. Not like here."

"So if I say you must have grown up in the woods, it's true."

Hanna laughed and nodded. She set her empty plate on the bedside table and hugged her knees, smiling at Sophie as she watched her. She blushed faintly. "I didn't think sex could be so expressive either."

"I didn't either," Sophie admitted softly. She trailed her fingers down Hanna's hand, brushing over scars on her knuckles and the long, strong length of one finger. Sophie shivered despite herself, remembering the sureness of those hands in several capacities. "What do you do?" Sophie finally asked.

"Things. I work here and there."

"Doing what?"

Hanna shrugged. "I worked at a music store. And I worked at a mechanic's. Now I'm working in a kitchen at a French restaurant. They let me eat free."

"They let you cook?"

"No. I bus tables and clean up the kitchen. They let me cut the meat too."

"No shit," Sophie had a mind to say. She couldn't stop her grin. Hanna smiled back. "So you live here now?"

"Yes. I like it."

"It's funny. I've been here since I started university in this town. I wish I had seen you before."

"I've seen you," Hanna said. She looked over her knees almost shyly at Sophie. "Sometimes."

"Will you keep seeing me?" she asked.

Hanna's brow furrowed.

"I want to keep seeing you. Like this," Sophie spelled out. She twined her fingers in Hanna's. "Do you want to too?"

"Yes." Hanna almost bit the word off in her haste to say it. It reassured Sophie a little bit. That maybe Hanna had thought of her as much as she'd thought of Hanna. Come what may, at least they had that. It would be enough.

-end-


End file.
